


By Hook or by Crook

by lilstrawbaby



Series: Shrinks In Love [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, F/M, Lost Love, Love, Regret, Shrinks In Love, Undercover lovers, murder couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:11:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilstrawbaby/pseuds/lilstrawbaby
Summary: In the peace and quiet of the institution, Hannibal comes to understand the weight of love and loss.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was having some serious writer's block with Demimonde, so I decided to write something else, hoping it will reopen the creative channels. We'll see what happens. I hope you enjoy my offering!

In the stillness of night, while the bulk of the world sleeps, Hannibal lies awake in the bowels of the Baltimore Psychiatric Hospital for the Criminally Insane, staring into the darkness. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, envisioning the ornate doors outside his memory palace. Pushing them open, he steps into the spacious marble entryway, looking up at the ceiling, viewing Michelangelo's interpretation of the Creation of Earth, humanity and various narratives from the Bible. A feeling of peace washes over him and he slowly turns in a circle, carefully considering each door before making a decision.

It pulls him, the large wooden door with gold trim, simple and elegant, just like her. Pushing it open, he hears the _Requiem Mass,_ _Dies Irae_  be exact, and smirks. _Day of Wrath_  indeed. She turns, that insolent smirk on her lips he's come to know and love, one eyebrow cocking at the sight of him. Crossing her arms against her chest, she looks at him silently, appraising him. He lets it wash over him, grateful to see her again, after months of her hiding from him. While he knows it isn't really her, they are his imaginings and memories of her, it is everything he knows about her, the good and the bad.

The scene changes to a candlelit room, _Andrea Chénier_  playing softly in the background to the accompaniment of a squeaking mattress, the soft sounds of his and hers pleasure. The memory is almost tangible with sensations-he could almost taste her, feel her touch, smell her skin. She rises above him, messy blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, looking down at him through hooded eyes. The vision evaporates like smoke, leaving him wanting, as always. These nights are the worst for him, when the darkness threatens to trigger feelings he would rather ignore, when the bittersweet memories make his blood run cold at the sheer lunacy of choosing Will Graham over her. She might give the impression of an imperious, capricious goddess, but the truth of the matter is she is a snow-capped volcano. He barely began to discover her hidden depths when he, unable to let Will go, discards her like a bad hand. Ultimately, for an even more treacherous one.

He shivers at the notion of never seeing her again, as if someone walked over his grave. Will Graham has never been worth his time or attention and it pains him all the more that he didn't listen to her when she tried to warn him way back when. It is all these little details, the tiny threads he now has the time to examine in nauseating detail, arranging and weaving them into a large tapestry he is just now able to see and understand clearly. It strengthens his resolve to leave this place, to have her again, by hook or by crook.


End file.
